


Clouds like red sponges

by Macdicilla



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (attempted comfort), Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:05:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macdicilla/pseuds/Macdicilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I– I don't think they'd try it again.' Aziraphale offered. 'I don't think it's likely.'<br/>Crowley said nothing. Aziraphale pulled away to look at him.<br/>'My dear, what can I possibly say?'<br/>'I don't know. I don't know if there's anything that can be said. I just– I just need some time to distract myself from the dream. It's nothing, really. Wasn't even that disturbing to look at. It's just the idea behind it.'<br/>'I want you to know ,' Aziraphale said, 'that if the final battle ever does break out, I will not leave your side.'<br/>'Don't want to talk about the blessed battle,' said Crowley, because he wasn't quite able to say: if I ever had to see you die, I would never stop screaming.</p><p>(Crowley has a nightmare about the end of the world, Aziraphale tries to comfort him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clouds like red sponges

Crowley woke up frozen. It wasn't the sort of thing where you woke up in a start and then breathed a sigh of relief when you realized you were awake now. It was the sort of thing that bathed you in sweat and made your heart thud against your ribs, even if you didn't technically need a heart.

An ancient dread twisted just below his lungs, and he turned to check– or rather shake– the sleeping mass at his side.  
'What is it, dear?' The angel asked drowsily.

Then Crowley breathed his sigh of relief, and felt ashamed for waking him up.  
'No, never mind. Doesn't matter now.'

But it mattered to Aziraphale. He propped himself up to look Crowley in the eyes.  
Crowley closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

'Are you all right?'  
'I didn't mean to bother you.'  
'You dreamt something.'  
'Leave it.'  
'You dreamt something.' Aziraphale insisted.  
Crowley sighed and allowed his eyes to open. They looked gold in the dark.  
'Yeah. I did.'  
'Something ugly.' Aziraphale ventured.  
'Yeah.'  
There was a laden pause.  
'You don't have to talk about it.'  
Another silence.  
'You were in it. Not quite. I kept trying to find you, but I couldn't find you.'  
'I thought I heard you calling me,' said Aziraphale. 'Find me where?'  
'Among the, er, bodies. In the skies. It was a battle. No, the aftermath of a battle. I don't know. I couldn't see the fighting. There was blood, Aziraphale. There was so much of it, and it was everywhere, and the ground squelched underfoot, except the ground was clouds, clouds soaked through and dripping like sponges. Beings lay dead, open, red in pools of red, and you couldn't tell who was from which side. There were parts of bodies…'

Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley's shoulder.  
'My dear, you're shaking.'  
'You'd be too.'

Aziraphale drew him close and pressed him against his soft chest.  
'The world's not going to end, Crowley.'  
'We don't know that.'  
'We stopped it.'  
'Once.'  
They were both quiet.

'I– I don't think they'd try it again.' Aziraphale offered. 'I don't think it's likely.'  
Crowley said nothing. Aziraphale pulled away to look at him.  
'My dear, what can I possibly say?'  
'I don't know. I don't know if there's anything that can be said. I just– I just need some time to distract myself from the dream. It's nothing, really. Wasn't even that disturbing to look at. It's just the idea behind it. Distract me.' Crowley said, slinking back into Aziraphale's arms, and resting his chin on Azirahale's shoulder.

'I want you to know ,' Aziraphale said, 'that if the final battle ever does break out, I will not leave your side.'  
'Don't want to talk about the blessed battle,' said Crowley, because he wasn't quite able to say if _I ever had to see you die, I would never stop screaming._  
'We'll go in to hiding and avoid the whole thing. If we can't stop it. There's a story– lots of stories in lots of cultures, actually–about shapeshifters who turn very, very small– into insects or mice– and defeat their opponents. But we can escape.'  
'That's mad.'  
'But it could work.'  
'Would you really desert the heavenly army for me, Angel?'  
'Of course.' Said Aziraphale right away.  
Crowley hummed and closed his eyes. Aziraphale hugged him tighter. Everything wasn't exactly better, but he was there. After a while, they both went back to sleep.


End file.
